


Nyctophilia

by settersoul07



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Cars, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smoking, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, Worldbuilding, brainrot but i make sentences out of it, i don't even simp for kuroo but i like this idea so, idk about vehicles, maybe some tokyo drift here and there??, watch me try to be dramatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/settersoul07/pseuds/settersoul07
Summary: Love of the night or darkness; finding comfort in the darkFor Makoto, it's more than that.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou & Original Character(s), Kuroo Tetsurou/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Nyctophilia

**Author's Note:**

> If this was an anime, [ this](https://open.spotify.com/album/6uq5X6zI466fOyPkzwVYTH) would be the opening.

"Thank you for coming to my live stream! You all really mean a lot to me, so make sure to take care of yourselves! Mako-chan out!"

She waved to the screens in front of her, to the two cameras that captured both angles of her face, and ended her live stream that had 23,000 viewers. She sighed loudly, exiting Twitch and hopping onto her discord server to check on those gremlins. The general channel was surprisingly active, and she hopped into the voice channel.

"MAKO-SENPAI IS IN THE HOOOOOOUSSEE!!!!" a girl screamed into her mic. "CAN I GET AN OWA OWA??" she screamed. Makoto laughed, wheezing from the girl's hyper mood.

"Natsu quit the Gen-Z shenanigans, otherwise, I'm telling your brother," she laughed into her mic. "He's a Gen-Z inside, too. The other day, he and Tobi were singing Renai Circulation while having their usual street races," she said, giggling. Makoto smiled. "The real question is, **who won.** ", she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"To be honest, I think Tobi did. He definitely used some Kamui ability, not gonna lie."

"He's pulling out the shinobi way, huh?"

"Hehe, definitely!" Natsu smiled. "Nice, nice. Tell them I said hi, will you?" Makoto asked. She could hear Natsu nodding eagerly on the other side. "Well, your big sis has to go right now. I'm kinda busy," she said.

"Oh, okay! See you at the weekly roundup! Tell big bro Suna that Karasuno is gonna win!", Natsu exclaimed. Makoto turned on her camera and waved goodbye to her prodigal little sister. Hinata Natsu was only 17, but she was already starting to follow in her older brother's footsteps in becoming a promising racer. But right now, she was just a junior on the Karasuno Killers, a street racing team that was beginning to make quite some fame.

Makoto unplugged her headphones, mic, and shut down her gaming PC, which was whirring loudly from the three-and-a-half-hour stream. Her editor had quite the job of editing it before posting it on Youtube. She slumped in her seat and opened her phone. Someone requested another commission from her.

She scribbled down the requirements on a piece of paper and left a 'Thank you' and 'It'll be ready in about a week' note to her client. She started to work on her other commissions, too. She drew a circle on a blank canvas, adding guidelines and rough scribbles until she created the rough image of a character. She created a see-through layer of white on top, then created a light Lineart layer before laying down flat colors and painting.

An hour later, she gave up drawing painful details on the character design. She threw her can of iced tea into her wastebasket and called it a day.

She unplugged her 32-inch Wacom Cintiq Plus and shut off her phone. After shutting down everything, she peeled off her drawing gloves, chucked them onto her desk, and left the neon-purple gaming room, turning off the LED lights and closing the door behind her.

She arched her back and cracked a few joints, stretching out to the side and cracking a few knuckles. A small chuckle was heard next to her.

"Long stream?" her older brother, Yoshimura Suna asked, leaning against the wall.

"They begged me to play Among Us with some other streamers. It was boring as hell. Man, some people really don't know how to lie". She rolled her eyes and stretched out her legs.

"I doubt anyone else is as good as lying as you, you clone." Suna retorted, giving her a noogie on her head. She pursed her lips in a slight pout and clawed at her brother's shirt. "You're really short, too," he added.

"I look different than you, okay? My hair is better, and I'm not that short!" she said, pointing at his hair, the ends of his hair flaring out. He dropped her on the ground and pointed a finger at her, his knuckles adorned with silver jewelry. "You're a depressing goth, too, ya know," she said, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest.

He laughed, put his hand in his designer pants, and walked away from her, waving a hand. "See ya, you derpy dipshit."

"Where are you going?" she called out. "Gotta brush off my drifting skills, you incapable derp. I also have practice with Shin K and the AO".

"Dude, you say that _every_ time. I'm starting to suspect that you're not just practicing that stupid sport of yours," she said, putting her hands on her hips. he turned around sharply. "Well, I am," he said, his voice just slightly more firm than before. Makoto shrugged. "Have fun, I guess."

'Suna and his car. He'll never get a lover at this rate if he pays more attention to that Ferrari Enzo that dad bought for him,' she thought. He turned on her heels and went into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. "Might as well get some laps in, too," she thought, stepping into her bathroom and clipping her short hair tightly behind her ears. She looked into the mirror, her hazel eyes staring back at her. She turned her head to the side, this way and that, her black earring catching the light of the bathroom.

"Maybe I do look a lot like Suna," she hummed, applying a pale red lip tint to her lips, puckering them as she pressed a small monitor on the side of her bathroom counter.

"Good afternoon, Lady Makoto. How can I serve you?" an automated voice said.

"I told them to quit the formalities a week ago," she muttered under her breath. "Tell dad that Suna and I are out. He's with Shinsuke, and I'm going by myself. Be back at dusk," she said, leaning into the mic. "Transmitting message," it said.

She threw on a jacket and slipped her gun into the inside pocket, where it could be concealed and ready for her to use. paced around in the elevator, and within seconds, she was standing in an underground shed. In front of her was a handsome red motorcycle, specifically, the MTT Turbine Streetfighter. It was a costly gift of 175k from an ally mafia. It was hers. She slipped on her dark gloves and pressed a button on a monitor next to it.

"False Angel, preparing for cruise. I repeat, False Angel, preparing for cruise, over," she spoke into a mic that she fastened to her ear.

"HQ, receive False Angel. Exit cleared, ready when you are, False Angel. Over," a real voice spoke. Makoto fastened her helmet on, mounted herself onto her bike, then tapped her earpiece. "False Angel, ready for cruise. Be back at sunset, surfing in the Middle District. Over." she said, revving up her engine. "Exit cleared, have fun, False Angel." the HQ spoke. She tapped her earpiece again, muting herself.

The latches beneath her wheel lowered themselves, and she had to put her foot on the ground. The doors opened one at a time until she could see a sliver of light coming from the end of the garage. She pressed the foot pedal, and she was zooming through the corridor, her jacket catching the wind. the entrance grew bigger and bigger until she could exit the shed. She smiled to herself.

Zooming through the streets on her motorcycle was her favorite thing to do, because it was the closest thing to flying. Drifting was different, in her opinion. To her, it was just a flamboyant move guys who street raced used to be quicker. She hated the screech of the rubber tires against the gravel of the venues they held them at. You could say that she hated street racing in general. Maybe it was because a car almost ran into her when she was a child. Anyhow, she liked riding her motorcycle more than anything.

She glided across the streets (or boulevards, as the posh called them) of Upper Andor. She passed by modern-looking and old, vintage mansions, a church, and the occasional garden, or sanctuary, and everyone here called them. She was now heading to Middle Andor, where the real action happened. This was where you could find the best food, shopping, whatever. It was where the real things happened, where you could go and make a name to yourself no matter where you came from. She stopped at a red light, her black and red Nike high-tops touching the ground gently.

She didn't even have to look to know that someone was approaching her. Her back stiffened as she gripped the handles of her motorcycle. She sighed internally. 'I go through this shit eight times a week,' she thought. A stench of alcohol made contact with her nose, followed by a set of heavy footsteps that went in her direction. She could feel the drunkard's gaze at her, and she lost her cool.

"No," she said firmly. But the steps drew nearer and nearer.

"C'mon, I'm not gonna do you harm-", he said.

"-A 'no' means no." she snapped, drawing her gun. He cowered in fear, and she put her weapon away before zooming off. 'What filthy creatures,' she thought as the wind attacked her helmet. She had to bend over to prevent her head from getting knocked off.

The Middle District was a blur of neon lights and dark buildings as she drove through, staring at the afternoon sky. The blue horizon was tinted with purples and pinks, but there was a tinge of orange at the base. That was where she was heading. Well, before she had another idea. Watching the sunset had to wait.

She tapped her earpiece. "HQ, Robin speaking. How is your ride, False Angel?" a voice spoke.

"Robin, change of plans. I'm gonna pay a little visit to my bro. I'll send my coordinates. Over," she said, leaving the main road and entering an alleyway. "Very well, False Angel. Stay safe. Over."

She muted herself and drove through the twists and turns of the tight alleyways. This was no longer the Middle District. No, this was the Lower District; The Hood; or as street racers called it, The Zone. This section of alleyways was just the beginning. One wrong turn and you could find yourself in the heart of the Red Light District or end up getting beaten up by a group of thugs.

But outside of this welcoming zone was somewhere not many _normal_ people go. The Zone. Where all of the street racing took place, where the underground powers met the locals through a grueling race of stamina, speed, and stability. There was a silent system of communication among all of those in the street racing community. organizers put subtle signs where races took place, and if you didn't see them, you could get yourself run over by a car going 90 miles per hour in a race car.

But outside of the racing zone, it was perfectly fine. Well, for a mafia princess, yes. Now, Makoto was nearing a parking garage, aka, the practice place for street racing. Now, this parking garage was different. It was more official than other training grounds because her family's mafia funded it. The Black Hand.

There was one identification for those in that mafia. The double fish tattoos of Pisces on their right shoulderblades. Only members of the blood family were allowed to have additional tattoos on their bodies. Makoto had flowers extending to her mid-back and a tiny Gudetama at the nape of her neck. Suna had a small fox on behind his ear.

She drove up to the booth and flicked the piece of plastic covering her eyes on her helmet. The scanner in front of her picked up her face, and the gates opened for her. She drove towards the screeching of cars on the other side of the building, going up ramps and turning corners. She heard the sound of voices and left her motorcycle and helmet in a quiet corner. She tiptoed on the concrete, hoping to surprise Suna.

She saw his dark hair and large red jacket and knew it was him. "Oi, Suna!" she called. He turned around stiffly, then relaxed when he saw that it was his derpy little sister.

"Whatcha doing here, Makoto?" he asked, giving her another noogie. She noticed that he had handed a white packet to his friend, Shinsuke Kita. Everyone called him Shin K. "Eh, I got kinda bored," Makoto shrugged. "Oh yeah, hi guys!" she waved to the others. Shin K, Aran Ojiro, and the Miya brothers were all there. Growing up in a mafia family, she was used to meeting tall, scary, buff, and tattooed himboes.

"Oi, 'Samu," Atsumu yawned. "Yeah?" Osamu said, ruffling his hair. "Imma race you to the roof. Loser has to change all the oil next week." Atsumu glared at his twin brother. Osamu was unfazed as he slid into his convertible.

"I'm catching this in 4K," Makoto whispered to Suna. He nodded, and he motioned for Makoto to get in his car. She climbed into the back seat of his Ferrari and took out her phone, opening the camera app.

"Ready..." Suna counted.

"Set..."

"Go!" he said, stepping back. The Miya twins lurched forward, the engines of their cars leaving a trail of smoke behind them. Suna hit the gas pedal and Makoto clung to the handle above her with dear life as she recorded their race, the air slipping through her short hair. She heard Kita and Aran follow behind them. She was gripping onto her phone as Suna tried to follow the Miya twin's battle to the roof.

As they were nearing the roof, they heard the twins' cars screech to a stop. Makoto stretched her arm to catch the moment of victory as Suna pulled up to the roof and Osamu stepped out of his convertible.

"I won," he said, nonchalantly."Uh-uh, my car pulled up first," Atsumu retorted. Osamu's eyes were quiet as ever as he shook his head.

"The oil is waiting at home for you, Atsumu," Osamu pointed out, smiling a little. "An abusive, tyrannical pig like you deserves it!" he added, knocking Atsumu to the ground. Suna hurriedly took out his phone and started recording the fight along with Makoto.

"HAH????"

"You heard me! This is what you get for busting the engine of my car last week!" Osamu shouted, shaking Atsumu by the collar of his shirt.

"MY CAR WAS STILL AT THE MECHANIC-"

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE??! SAVE YOUR RECKLESS SKILLS FOR YOUR OWN CAR!"

Makoto enjoyed the sunset view from the roof, the wind tossing her hair around a little. The skyscrapers really seemed to scrape the sky, towering over the city like giants. The Miya twins' fight really ruined the scene.

_48 minutes later..._

"Are you two done fighting?", Kita asked, checking the time on his watch. "You wasted time we could have spent practicing for the roundup tomorrow. If you two lose to the others, then it's your fault.".

The twins stopped fighting each other and everyone turned to look at Kita.

"Save your sibling antics for outside of racing," Kita added, opening the door to his silver Porsche. The Miya twins grumbled a 'sorry' into thin air, and Suna stared with surprised and wide eyes. It was no wonder that Kita was the captain of Inarizaki with his stern personality. But this had happened a couple of times before, and it wasn't new. Makoto supposed that he was just frustrated and tired.

"I really doubt y'all would lose tomorrow, anyways. You can't fall down the ranks with this team, right?" Makoto said, smiling a little. "So cheer up a little," she nudged Suna in the ribs.

"I have to leave right now, so I'll be going. Don't let us down, guys," he said with a little smile, and he drove off.

"I guess we'll go, too. Atsumu, you still need to change the oil-"

"-fine," Atsumu grunted.

"Oh, yeah. Bye Makoto and Rin-I mean, Yoshimura," Osamu sputtered, getting into his car and driving off. The Yoshimura siblings stood alone at the roof of the parking garage. They leaned against Suna's car and stared into the sunset. The sun was going to bed and the moon signed into its night shift, the silver sliver shining faintly in the east. It was quite a beautiful sight.

"Say, Suna," Makoto interrupted the silence. Suna turned his head toward her. "Yeah?"

"I've been visiting you at practice since I got my motorcycle, and every time I come, I feel like you all are hiding something, or I interrupted some ordeal. And every time I ask what you're doing there, you always answer as if you're hiding something," she pointed out, tapping the side of the car with her lacquered nails. She saw Suna shift uncomfortably and fold his arms over his chest, still staring into the sky.

"I told you, I'm just racing," he insisted, closing his eyes slowly and folding his hands behind his head. He turned his face toward her and smiled. Makoto wasn't amused.

"Then why did Osamu call you 'Rin' when he left?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes. "Something is going on. I'm not gonna snitch on you with dad, but you gotta tell me,". Suna sighed.

"I don't use 'Yoshimura' when I race. It keeps my identity a bit more confidential. So that people can't search me up and plot to kill me or whatever. It's probably better that way since I'm gonna take dad's place when he retires. Or when he wants to retire. That guy probably will never give up his position until death," Suna explained. Makoto felt a little convinced.

"Makes sense, I guess," she grumbled, kicking a little piece of concrete at her feet. Suna rested his head on hers. "I'm not putting myself or our family into trouble, so don't worry," he reassured. Makoto looked sternly into her brother's eyes.

"Then what was that packet of white powder you gave to Kita when I came?"

Suna gulped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i don't know how to pace a chapter and everyone is ooc as heck. somry


End file.
